


Somewhere Behind Me

by Caro (thestarsexist)



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-16
Updated: 2006-06-16
Packaged: 2017-10-15 22:35:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/165550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestarsexist/pseuds/Caro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's first trip to Earth, he calls his father.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somewhere Behind Me

General O'Neill comes to see him on his third day on Earth. John's in the conference room, listening to Rodney rant about the declining quality of the SGC recruiting pool while they peruse stacks of resumes, when O'Neill interrupts and asks to have a word with him. John knows the look on O'Neill's face, knows it can't be anything good, but he nods, and puts on his unconcerned face in response to Rodney's questioning glance as he follows the General out of the room.

"Colonel Sheppard, John," O'Neill begins, and something in John's gut clenches. O'Neill hands over a slip of paper, his mouth grimacing in sympathy as John reads.

"I'm sorry," he says when John looks back up at him.

"It's okay," John says. "We weren't all that close."

***

John's first trip to Earth, he calls his father. He doesn't plan on doing it, doesn't even realize what he's doing until his fingers are dialing and he's listening to the ringing on the other end with a vague sense of trepidation. He remembers telling Elizabeth that there wasn't anyone waiting for him back home, but a few days ago he'd strapped himself to a nuclear bomb and a few hours before he'd watched Ford's cousin grieve over a loss she could never understand. He can't help feeling he'll regret it if he doesn't try. His father answers, his voice stiff and impersonal, and John stumbles through his polite inquiries and stilted conversation until finally he snaps, and begs, "Dad, just meet me for a cup of coffee. Just one."

He waits in the diner for three hours, but his father never shows.

***

"Eighteen months," Rodney grumbles, "it's been eighteen months since the last time I was on Earth, and, oh, let's not forget I spent most of the time away trying to keep one step ahead of _space vampires_ that were trying to _eat_ me. You'd think she could be the least bit considerate."

John rolls his eyes. "It's not her fault, McKay. It's not like she planned for her kid to break his leg. And she's coming, isn't she?"

"Yes. The day after tomorrow. Which means I have to push everything on my schedule aside because..."

"Oh shut up, McKay," John says, suddenly really irritated because Rodney can complain and complain all he likes, but the bottom line is that his sister is still showing up. She's still coming to see him, just like she has every time he's been able to come back to Earth, and Rodney doesn't even get how lucky he is. He doesn't have a piece of paper in his pocket, and he hasn't had to call total strangers to find out when they were _burying_ his father. John didn't miss the accusing undercurrent in the funeral director's voice as she gave him the information over the phone, the tone that said, _if you were a good son you'd have been there when he was dying by inches, you would at least have known_. John's father might be dead, but he could still tell people exactly what he thought of his son.

Rodney looks a little shocked, his mouth hanging partially open, before he recovers and stutters something about all the rescheduling he's going to have to do and how it'd be nice if John remembered that the things Rodney works on are a matter of _life and death_. John pretends not to notice the little uneasy glances Rodney shoots him the rest of the afternoon.

***

"I don't think I'll be able to make it, son," his father says and John clenches his hand tight around the receiver, trying to find a way to maintain control because his father never responds well to a lack of it. "Besides, I don't believe I can actually be of any help. John," the voice, the carefully patient voice that John hates, "whatever happens, it's your responsibility. You made a decision, and a man lives by his decisions. He doesn't expect others to fix it."

"Jesus, Dad," he says, "I don't want you to"

"Now if I used my influence, what kind of example"

"Dad," he shouts, frustrated, and the voice on the other end of the receiver goes quiet. John knows he's messed up, let his father hear how desperate he is, but it's not for the reasons he thinks. Afghanistan was one big clusterfuck, but John had made his choices, and even now, waiting for the hearing, he can't say he would do anything differently if the same circumstances presented themselves. He doesn't want his father to fix anything. He just wants him there, just wants to be able to turn around and catch someone's eye as he watches his future disintegrate before his eyes.

But he can't explain that on the phone, and his father's tone indicates that he's disinterested anyway, so John swallows, and says, "I understand, sir. You're right. This is my responsibility."

Throughout the hearing, he never turns around. Not even once.

***

"There you are. I'm starving, and I haven't" Rodney bursts into his hotel room just as he hangs up with the car service. It's not unexpected; there's no such thing as privacy on Atlantis, and John and Rodney have been letting those boundaries blur for too long to expect Rodney to knock now. Still, he starts guiltily when Rodney spots his duffel bag.

"You're going somewhere?" he asks, wrinkling his brow in confusion.

"Yeah," John replies, keeping his voice deliberately casual. "I need to leave town for a couple of days."

"Where? You didn't tell me you were going anywhere."

"It just came up."

Rodney frowns. "Just came up?"

"Yeah."

"When?"

"What do you mean when?" John can feel the start of a headache behind his eyes. He'd hoped that he could avoid this; actually what he'd hoped was that he'd be in a car on the way to the airport by now, and could leave a message on Rodney's voicemail en route. Sure Rodney would have been pissed, but he'd get over it eventually, and John wouldn't have to do this now. Not when he feels brittle and worn out, like he's coming back in from a long day in the field.

Rodney shows no sign of backing down. He folds his arms across his chest, and lifts his chin, meeting John's gaze head on. "I mean, when did it come up? Because we spent all of yesterday together. You certainly didn't mention it then. And this morning, we had breakfast, and nada. I mean, I know I'm working on one or two thousand important projects at the moment"

"Rodney"

"but I think I'd remember if you told me you were taking a trip."

"I told you it just came up."

"And it has nothing to do with your little tte--tte with O'Neill yesterday?"

"I told you that was nothing."

"Oh, for..." Rodney throws his hands in the air before snapping his mouth shut. John closes his eyes, knowing that Rodney's not done, knowing that Rodney is just gearing up for round two. But the gentle voice that says, "John," the understanding gaze that John sees when he opens his eyes again, they're too much. They pierce through him in the worst ways, and John has to get out of there.

"I have to go," John says, grabbing for his bag blindly. "I have a plane to catch." He shifts to move out of Rodney's way, but Rodney grabs his arm before he can escape.

"John, you can tell me if something is wrong. I'll...I can..."

"No," he says quickly, not wanting to hear Rodney make any promises, any offers to fix anything, because Rodney can fix a lot of things. He can fix broken down technology, and a broken down city, but he can't fix this. He can't fix John, and it's not his responsibility to, and John's not a man who lets other people take responsibility for his messes. So he says, "nothing's wrong," and then when Rodney still won't let go, he goes for the quick kill, even if he hates himself for the cruelty.

"Nothing's wrong, McKay. Maybe I just remembered we're actually on _Earth_ now. Maybe I remembered that I have options that don't involve stroking your ego for a month." And it works. Rodney's eyes go wide and hurt, and his grip on John slips just enough that John can back away, walk out the door and pretend he doesn't feel the weight of Rodney's disappointment pressing against his chest with every movement.

***

He'd forgotten how dry Texas could be in June. He's used to ocean air now, tangy and salty and humid, not this dry dusty thing that chokes him as he stands under the blazing sun. The service by the grave is quick. A few well-wishers, men who'd served with his father, people whose names he remembers only at the edges of old memories. Their eyes glance over at him, flat smiles tinged with the slightest hints of disapproval and curiosity that John can't return. They tell him how proud they were to have known his father, talk of his dedication to his country, and John nods, and shakes hands, and feels absolutely nothing.

When it's done, he stands by the grave, peering down at the coffin. He thinks he should say something, make peace, but the words don't come.

"Careful, Colonel," he hears, and whirls around to stare. Because it couldn't be. "If you fall down there, I'm leaving you to your own devices."

"Rodney?" he asks inanely.

Rodney shrugs as if to say "who else," ambles over to where John is standing, and looks over John's shoulder. "So, that's your dad? What...?"

"Cancer."

Rodney nods sadly, one hand reaching out to gently brush John's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"It's o" he pauses, not quite able to say the words. "What are you doing here?" he asks instead.

"You really didn't expect me to come?"

"No." John says, because it's the truth.

Rodney harrumphs, and says "You should know better than to underestimate me," and John starts to protest, starts to say that he never really does, but maybe he has this time because he never actually thought Rodney would be here.

"How did you even find out?" he asks.

"The USAF email service. A little uncomfortably easy to hack. O'Neill gets a lot of spam by the way."

"Rodney." John gapes. "Do you know how illegal that is? I-- you--"

"Oh relax," Rodney says with a roll of his eyes, his smile a bright and blinding thing that John can't help but respond to. "What are they going to do? Arrest me? I'm Earth's last great hope," he adds, smugly.

"I thought that was Samantha Carter," John replies automatically, and Rodney scowls, but even that is strangely comforting.

"So, do we have to stick around for anything?" Rodney asks, gesturing to the now abandoned cemetery. John shakes his head, and starts to walk back to his car, Rodney following him in silence. At the car, he turns around, leaning against the passenger side, and takes a long look at Rodney, who is already undoing the tie that John hadn't really noticed before. Now that he studies Rodney, he can see a few things, the suit that's a little loose on him because God knows how old it is, the worry lines around his eyes as he watches John carefully, the questions he's holding back although Rodney never holds anything back. He thinks about the day and wonders aloud, "Jeannie?"

"Told her I'd come visit her next week. Not like she actually wanted to leave Brandon while he was still in the cast."

"Thought you had a lot of important projects."

"I do."

John laughs, because he doesn't know how else to respond. "Seriously, Rodney," he says, "why are you here?"

Rodney gives him a half-smile, the type he gives whenever he's screwing up his courage to say something embarrassing, and possibly brave, and John almost wants to tell him not to worry about it, except that he kind of thinks he'd like to hear this.

"We're family," Rodney says in a quiet tone that John's never heard before. "You, me, Elizabeth, Carson, the team, Atlantis. If we're not there when one of us needs someone and yes, I'm fully aware that you would rather actually have your head shaved than admit that you need _anyone_ still, it's what we do. I follow you to strange planets, John. Do you think I wouldn't comethat any of us wouldn't come?"

He lifts his chin up, as if daring John to say _yes_ , and John doesn't want to, he really doesn't, except he can still recall the taste of the fifteen cups of coffee he drank while he tried to convince himself to give his father just ten more minutes, can still remember the waitress' pitying look when he finally paid the bill, can still hear the polite tones of his father's secretary as she expressed his regret when John called afterwards from the hotel room.

"It doesn't always work that way," John says, because he's never turned around hoping to catch an encouraging glance.

"Well, this does," Rodney replies, with enough conviction in his voice to anchor John, push his doubts away, allowing him to breathe freely for the first time in days. He still feels gritty and strung out, like he's been camping in enemy territory, but now the path home doesn't feel so far.

"Family, huh?"

"Yes."

"Does this mean you think of me like a brother?"

Rodney splutters and then glares when he realizes John is teasing. "Oh whatever. Don't get carried away. You're very lucky I even talk to you, you know that. "

"Yeah. I know." John means it.

"Oh," Rodney says, sounding somewhat mollified, and then embarrassed, and then pleased and embarrassed at the same time. "So, um, you want to go get a cup of coffee or something?" he asks.

"Yeah," John replies. "That sounds good."


End file.
